The speaker is stuck, and knows it. A clock seems to whisper at them, scolding them to get up and go somewhere, but they can't move. They describe themselves as chained to a chair and turned to stone, a vivid way of saying that doing nothing has become a kind of paralysis. The odd phrase "one lazy kind" suggests they see themselves as a particular type of person, maybe a little ashamed of it.
What makes the poem feel honest is the point it makes about inertia: after a long stretch of doing nothing, starting is hard. The speaker then slides toward a darker thought, that their time may already have passed and they're simply left behind to "do nothing and be nobody." The rhymes in the last lines (away, stay, way) give that idea a flat, resigned sound, as if the speaker is half accepting it. The mood is heavy, quiet and a bit guilty, with only a faint sense that things could change.